


never let your prayin' knees get lazy and love like crazy

by notthebigspoon



Series: Jet Black Sky Is Painted White Again [13]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter Pence: dedicated boyfriend and World Series Champion.<br/>Brandon Belt: dedicated boyfriend and World Series Champion.</p>
<p>Title taken from Love Like Crazy by Lee Brice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never let your prayin' knees get lazy and love like crazy

It was good while it lasted, what they had. It had felt so real to Hunter, _had_ been real to him. He's not sure how Shane felt about it. He knows how Shane _said_ he felt about it, but that doesn't mean a whole lot. Shane said a lot of things while they were together, made a lot of promises that he hadn't kept. And on reflection, it had always been impossible, too many obstacles that made a future together impossible. He feels guilty now for wishing for a future then, he would have robbed a woman of her husband and changed a few children's whole world, just because he hadn't wanted to be alone. Because he'd been in love.

It's hard to believe that all of that had happened in the past year. 2012 has been a whirlwind of disappointment, love, heartache, upset, hope and victory. He's a little surprised that he came out of it a whole being. There were a lot of nights that he never thought he would. Nights where he would fall apart, sometimes drinking and sometimes crying, with more than a few nights of doing both. He never would have thought, all those nights, that his life would ever become what it has become now.

The Giants have changed his life and changed a lot of things about him. His self esteem has never been all that bad but somehow he feels better about himself than he used to. More important, part of something bigger and better than himself. Guys that he didn't know making room for him, drawing him in and keeping him by their sides in spite of it all. He'd really felt, when the pictures of him and Shane had surfaced, that he'd lost his place. He'd anticipated ostracism and rejection, had prepared himself for it. It's what would have happened in Houston. Maybe Philadelphia, probably, but Hunter's not sure. There had been no way to prepare for what had happened, how they had thrown themselves behind him full force, not allowing anyone to screw with him if there was something they could do about it. And then there was Theriot's apparent desire to cuddle Hunter anywhere and everywhere, the more witnesses the better, just to prove a point. Brandon had found it amusing even if he didn't much care for people touching up on Hunter so much.

Supportive teammates or not, he doesn't really know how he made it through that whole mess. He doesn't think he could have without Brandon, someone who had taken Hunter's heart and written his name on it. He really doesn't know how much he means to Hunter, doesn't know that he owns Hunter. Adorably oblivious, that's him. Not that Hunter would call him adorable to his face. He learned that lesson the hard way. Brandon is a hell of a shot when it comes to snapping rubber bands, bringing welts that bear an embarrassing resemblance to hickies.

The focus on them since they'd been outed has been intense, people watching their move and anticipating mistakes, some of them outright craving those mistakes. Anything that they could use to try and 'prove' that there was no place for guys like Hunter and Brandon in the show. Not that the lack of so called proof stopped anyone from saying that anyway. Brandon and Hunter have been called everything under the sun, to their faces and otherwise. Nothing that Hunter can't take but he finds himself constantly worrying about Brandon, wondering when it will all just become too much for him, when the words and the threats are too hurtful for him to want to do this anymore. It hasn't happened yet. Brandon has consistently responded with anger and disgust that people are so obsessed with something that has nothing to do with them and has no impact on their lives. He's said twice as much as Hunter on the subject, tackling it head on and taking every insult with a smirk or a smile.

All the attention and the negativity disappear and fall out of their consciousness when they enter the series. They've come too far to let anything get in the way, be it the words of others or the way they feel about each other. They can't afford to get distracted, you never can in baseball. They stay at their own apartments during the games in San Francisco. There's an unspoken agreement to keep some distance, to focus on nothing but baseball. It's one that Hunter breaks when they board the flight to Detroit. He scans for a seat and immediately zones in on Brandon, sitting in the middle of his own row. Hunter sits in the window seat and drapes his legs over Brandon's lap, earning a surprised smile and an amused laugh from his boyfriend. He declares his intention to sleep all the way to Detroit and Brandon just rubs his leg and tells him to go ahead. Hunter slumps against the seat, closing his eyes. He's comfortable, and he smiles when he feels Brandon's coat being draped over him.

Detroit is hell. The fight for the series is hard and bitter. They're in enemy territory with very little love to soften the anger and venom of a fan base that now hates every Giant simply for existing. Hunter knows he's a vulnerable target, so is Brandon, and he takes a little comfort in knowing that if that's what people are focusing on, what they're choosing to attack with their words and their signs, then they don't actually care or know anything about the show. Brandon had rather bluntly told a concerned Lincecum only a few days ago, they don't know shit.

During the fourth game, he's haunted by a nagging feeling that he would very much like to throw up. They could do it tonight. They're so close but all too aware that they're not quite there yet. When they go into the tenth inning, he flatly informs Pagan that he might throw up on him. All he gets is a smile and a pat on the head from Scutaro. He can't sit still, can't calm down, but he focuses on the game with all the determination he possesses, silently telling himself that they can do this, that this is a thing that they can make happen. When Scoots drives Theriot in, Hunter screams louder than any of them and greets Theriot with a sloppy kiss on the cheek when he returns to the dugout.

The bottom of the tenth, his stomach is turning and he's hyper aware of everything around him. He finds himself staring intently at Romo, whispering 'come on, come _on_ ' under his breath. When Romo snatches that final out, the world comes to a half for one perfect second before it comes roaring back at Hunter, a riot of color and motion and sound. He moves to the mound on autopilot, throwing his arms around the closest body and hanging on tight. He doesn't know who it is, just knows that they laugh and thump him on the back before moving on. They're all all over each other, soaked in sweat and tears and champagne. He hugs Cain, buries his face in the guy's shoulder and stays there for a minute, breathing slowly. When Cain pushes him back, Hunter gives him a sheepish smile and an apology. Cain shakes his head and points. Hunter turns around.

Brandon is standing there, grinning and holding out a t-shirt to Hunter, already wearing his own. Hunter takes the shirt and pulls it over his head, looking down at his chest. World Series Champions. It's surreal. He never saw himself in this position. He'd hoped, wished, dreamed, just like every other baseball player on the planet, but he'd never been able to picture it. But it's here, it's real and he's sharing it with a man he loves. They've been careful to keep the touching and affection to a minimum when they're in uniform, when they're representing the team in any capacity, but Hunter doesn't care about that right now. What he cares about is that he's here and that he's here with Brandon.

He rests his hand on Brandon's shoulder, strokes his boyfriend's neck with his thumb before stepping in and kissing him as hard as he can. Brandon grips his hips, laughing into the kiss as he yanks Hunter close. Only a few months ago, they wouldn't have been able to do this, would never have dared. He knows he has tears trailing down his cheeks, he's happy and so overwhelmed. Brandon just smiles, wipes the tears away and kisses Hunter again before resting his head on Hunter's shoulder. His arms are around Hunter's waist and Hunter's arms are around his shoulders and right now, they're the only two people in the world.

“Can't believe we're here. Can't believe _I'm_ here. Especially with you.” Brandon mumbles, hugging Hunter's waist. Hunter smiles and pets his hair.

“Yeah. Probably wasn't expecting this when you went to the diner that night, were you?” Hunter asks, yelping and laughing when Brandon pinches him. “Really glad you did go there that night. Glad you came back. Glad about a lot of things.”

“About winning the series?”

“Fucking ecstatic.”

At some point, they let go of each other and start mingling with their teammates again. The team migrates en masse to the visiting clubhouse for endless interviews and the champagne showers. Hunter knows that he talks to people both about the game and about Brandon but it's all a blur, too much at once for him to absorb and focus on it all. Brandon is the only thing keeping him grounded and Hunter keeps circling back to him, stealing touches and quick kisses just so he can keep from going insane. Brandon doesn't seem to mind it, is even the one to find Hunter a few times, always dropping a kiss on the back of Hunter's neck, like he knows that Hunter loves for him to do.

When the clubhouse finally starts emptying, Hunter is pleasantly buzzed and on the fringes of 'damn, I'm drunk!' and he's pretty pleased with that. He takes a shower to rinse away the sweat, beer and champagne before changing into street clothes. He hefts his bag onto his shoulder, only wobbling a little before making tracks for the door. He smiles the whole way back to the hotel, screams into the night sky and laughs when a cluster of Tigers fans curse him and the day he was born.

The lobby of the hotel is packed and it feels like he has to fight his way through the crowd, occasionally stopping for a picture or an autograph. When he reaches the elevator, he all but falls into it, eyes shutting after he punches the button for their floor. He leans against the wall, breathing slowly and trying to center himself. He stumbles to his room when the elevator doors ding open, hands shaking as he unlocks the door and steps inside. He's flying so high that he can't come down and when he hears the knock on the door, hears Brandon calling his name, he yanks the door open and drags his boyfriend inside.

It's rough and almost desperate, Hunter drawing Brandon back in for more every time they break apart long enough to breathe or strip away and article of clothing. He's pushed up against the dresser hard enough that he knows he's going to have a bruise but the pain means nothing when Brandon is sinking down to his knees, pulling Hunter's jeans and boxers down, swallowing Hunter down in one go. Hunter's knees buckle and he fists a hand into Brandon's hair, closing his eyes and breathing shallowly. His boyfriend really does have a _fantastic_ mouth. And those lips are absolutely sinful. He hisses when Brandon pushes two fingers knuckle deep into his body. He moves his head and fingers in a perfect rhythm. Hunter feels like he's going to fall apart. When Brandon pulls off and slips his fingers free from Hunter's body, standing up, Hunter abandons pride in favor of sheer, wanton desire and begs Brandon for more.

He's shushed with a kiss before Brandon is turning him around and pushing him onto the bed. Hunter backs up the bed until his head hits the pillows, panting and watching Brandon dig through his suitcase until he finds what he's looking for. Brandon kneels between his legs, kisses his stomach, bites his chest, bites his collar bone. Hunter helps him put the condom on with shaking hands, biting his lips and begging again, telling Brandon now, please, now. He gets what he wants, their bodies pressed flush together while Brandon fucks him deep and slow. He keeps biting Hunter's neck and shoulder, probably leaving countless marks of ownership. It's okay though, because Hunter _does_ belong to him, every bit of Hunter does. Hunter closes his eyes, clings to Brandon's shoulders and flat out mewls his boyfriend's name when he comes. Brandon's own climax is marked by a brutal snap of his hips and a sharp bite right at the crook of Hunter's neck that makes Hunter yelp and then moan.

They're panting, Brandon nosing at his neck, kissing and licking the spot he just bit when he mumbles, “You need to shave.”

Hunter pauses, pressing his hand flat against Brandon's chest and pushing him back far enough that he can look his boyfriend in the eye. “Really? We just had sex, really good victory sex I might add, and that's your idea of pillow talk?”

“It itches.” Brandon answers simply, grinning and then laughing when Hunter pushes him onto the other side of the bed.

Hunter so doesn't want to be walking right now but he gets up and grabs his long abandoned shaving kit out of his suitcase. He shaves with the bathroom door open, completely aware of the way that Brandon's eyes are roaming his naked body. It makes him blush and bite his lip. He rinses his face after, puts on the barest bit of his aftershave, a scent that Brandon has more than once said drives him crazy. He turns the bathroom light off and shuts the bedroom light off as well before returning to the bed. 

He slides under the blankets, stretches out with a content sigh before rolling up onto his side. Brandon does the same. They're inches apart from each other. Brandon's hand rests on Hunter's hip, rubbing and squeezing. He pulls Hunter closer until their bodies are touching, nuzzling Hunter's cheek, kissing him softly before resting his head back on his pillow. His eyes are shining and he just can't seem to stop smiling. Hunter is kind of in awe, knowing that he can make someone that happy.

“Can't really believe this is happening.” He says softly. “If you'd asked me, back at the end of July, I might have actually said that I hated my life and wished the season was over so I could wallow in my own misery.”

“What happened?”

“Moved to San Francisco. Fell in love. Won the World Series. Y'know. That old chestnut.”

Brandon laughs, kissing him again. “Bet you never saw yourself making it this far with Victorino.”

“Never saw myself making it this far with _you_.” Hunter counters. “Never saw myself at this point at all. You hope, you wish, you dream, you pray. But you never really expect it until it actually happens.”

“Do you ever miss him?”

“Sometimes.” Hunter shrugs, trailing his fingers over Brandon's arm. “Doesn't matter though. Just because you miss someone doesn't mean you need them back in your life. Missing is just a part of moving on.”

Brandon looks pleased by the answer. “And what are you moving on to now?”

“Reality. Which hopefully involves a trip home and a vacation with my boyfriend.” Hunter answers, flushing.

“Really?” Brandon laughs. He rolls over onto his stomach and Hunter moves forward, draping himself over his boyfriend's back and using his shoulder for a pillow. “After the parade and anything else, first thing after, I'll take you to meet my meemaw. She wants to meet you, I might talk about you kind of a lot. She will feed you pie and she will love you.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It will be.”


End file.
